Heartprism
by SecretBox
Summary: o8. He hoped to be as strong as Aerith on and off the battlefield; — ஐ — donrith.
1. roses

**A/N:** A collection of Aerith x –insert random person here- one-shots. _Why _you ask?

One, because Aerith is my favorite video game character EVER. I could write an essay explaining as to why I adore her character oh so much (and why you should too), but I won't. You should know that by now just from reading all of my Aerith!centric pieces written for the KH fandom.

Second, because Aerith is so darn shippable. I ship pretty much any coupling with the flower girl in it (fanfiction-wise; canon-wise, I'm a Clorith fangirl all the way). Somehow, she just makes every pairing adorable.

Third, because Aerith is love and love makes the world go round, which is essential to changing seasons and life on Earth PERIOD. No one cannot possibly argue with that logic, ne?

. . . and yes, this is an AU.

P.S. I AM taking requests. As long as I am confident in my ability to keep the other character in question IC, then I _will_ write it. If that does not motivate you then I do not know what will.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own KH -- yet.

* * *

**Heartprism**

_» (Roses : I love you)_

* * *

**I**t was a truly beautiful day.

The sky overhead was a brilliant navy blue, punctuated with fluffy rainbow-highlighted white cumulus clouds. The cherry trees were just starting to bloom, bringing a pink overview to the entire landscape as a quite obviously out-of-place teen wandered along the cobblestone streets of Radiant Garden. Papery petals rained down with every gentle toss of breeze in bright bursts of little blush-pink storms; he sneezed lightly when golden sunlight reflected off of pollen grains dancing in mid-air before his very eyes. Absently, the teenage youth's lowered gaze noted the tiny blooms of flowers that dotted the swaying grasses at his feet, unconsciously putting a name to each and every one: tulips, hydrangea, daffodils, daises, and narcissus. The list went on and on. Yet despite the picture of natural splendor before quiet sienna orbs, his attention was diverted wholly elsewhere as he had withdrawn into the tiniest recess of his mind.

The cheerful and upbeat expression that he usually managed to keep firmly in tact for all to see had been replaced with an uncharacteristic look of uncertainty. Cinnamon brows were drawn together implicitly as chapped lips quirked into the beginnings of a frown whilst he cast dark eyes to and fro, trying and failing miserably to maintain a nonchalant air while he searched for a mere glimpse of the flower girl. She was usually up and about by this hour, a basket filled to the brim with botanical beauties of every variety tucked under her arm, standing out like a bright spot in the midst of a crowded street. Her dark green eyes always shone sweet and bright as she offered a freshly blossomed flower to passerby for a single munny . . .

The mere thought of her was enough to send Pence's heart aflutter and stumble to a stop in his chest.

Unconsciously, he toyed with the stems of the flowers behind his back; the ones he had purchased for her that same morning. He wondered over her reaction to receiving such an unexpected gift. Would she gasp, blush a vivid shade of rose, and thank him breathlessly? Or perhaps she'd giggle and smile whimsically before bestowing a chaste kiss against his cheek?

Pence felt his entire face flush in a furious shade of crimson as he played out every possible scenario giddily in his head.

Since when had he become such a teenage romanticist?

So caught up in his thoughts was he that the teenaged boy failed to notice as the object of his thoughts, a delicate, slim figure of a lone woman stepping out into pale beams of sunlight, began to walk towards him with light steps. Curiosity was bright in those dark green eyes of hers, the brilliant color of which was only brought out more by the petal-pink hue of her demure dress. "Pence!" the flower girl said in greeting, smiling warmly as she came to a stop in front of him and snapped him out of his reverie. "What are you doing running about Radiant Garden so early?"

Despite his best efforts to eclipse his features with pure apathy, Pence's mouth hung open in a small "o" and breathing completely slipped his mind as the words he'd rehearsed in his head over and over in preparation for this occasion were beautifully wiped clean when gleaming emeralds captured glazed coffee-colored irises.

For the longest time, Pence had always thought that he was not anything special, eternally hanging in the background like some silvery cloud overshadowed by the sparkle of three bumblebee stars, the shining trio that was _HaynerRoxasOlette._ He'd often spend his time worrying that he would be inadequate, that he'd let everyone down when they needed him most, that he would make a fatal mistake and spend the rest of his life wishing everything were different. Sometimes, he'd worry that one day they'd turn to him and see him for the utterly hopeless, useless whelp he really was, and that he would be left alone (friend-less) in the aftermath. After all, he wasn't unique, he wasn't some knight in shining armor or a beautiful prince with perfect hair and perfect teeth and perfect everything to match. He was just Pence; anything and anyone but extraordinary _even though he __stayed up all night plagued with thoughts of not-real boys and swathing darkness_.

Over the years, Pence had come to terms with his mediocre looks, awkward haircut, and crooked smile. He wasn't bitter, he told himself, as he was realistic. After all, who would notice him with people as beautiful as Hayner, Roxas, and Olette hanging around? No one, that was who. But they were his friends, and even though they outshined him to the point that he was almost blinded by their brilliance, their shining irrevent confidence and contagious golden laughter, he had become content with living in their shadows if only to treasure the precious time he had with them that he did not feel he truly deserved, and that had always suited him just fine . . . until now.

That is, until she came along.

It was Aerith . . . sweet, gentle, and beautiful Aerith who had taken the time to actually see him, notice him in such a way that no one of the likes ever had before. She had made him feel like he was something, so extraordinary that he was anything but ordinary. She had single-handedly managed to effortlessly dash away any and every doubt bubbling to the surface of his troubled psyche with her gentile smile and soft voice. He could barely refrain from reaching up to caress her soft cheek whenever the light touched her delicate face in such a way. When she tilted her head at a certain angle and looked down at him with smiling eyes, it was all he could do not to pull her down to him and kiss her breathless because he was just so amazed.

So amazed that someone like her would even give him the time of day.

_You see me_, he thought. _Like no one else has or probably ever will._

The brunette-haired boy gulped nervously like there was cotton on his tongue and his mouth had gone dry; he shifted anxiously on his feet before managing a flimsy smile in her direction, trying to calm his racing heart. So far, it wasn't working.

"Uh, hey, Aerith. I was actually well, you know. . . just walking around and enjoying the sights. I thought I'd do some souvenir shopping and buy some more film for my camera." It was a half truth at the least, and she seemed to sense this as she looked doubtful for a second but chose to drop the subject.

She was too nice for her own good, he decided then.

"It's beautiful out today, isn't it?" Her words were pretty and tied with a string, arriving to the ears in a pretty package with a little cherry bow on top; she looked tranquil, comfortable as she basked in the dappled sunlight falling all around them in a myriad of multi-color. She tucked a strand of caramel hair behind her ear, and smiled.

_Not nearly as beautiful as you, _he wanted, wished he could gather up the courage to say. Once again, Pence was at a lost for words as he turned his gaze away from her, silent for a moment. As the branches above swayed with every gentle touch of wind, pale pink petals continued their graceful descent until finally reaching the earth. He watched them go, feeling saddened.

He knew he would have to leave Radiant Garden soon.

"Pence?" she prodded gently, as if sensing his distress.

"Yeah," he finally admitted quietly, "I . . . I've never seen anything quite like it before. The sun never rises in Twilight Town."

He could hear the frown in her soft, lilting voice without even looking up at her as he kicked at a tiny pebble distractedly. "Is something the matter?"

He felt his cheeks begin to redden underneath her scrutiny as he shifted his weight from foot to foot uneasily. After a moment, he hurriedly passed the amateur bouquet of crushed roses into her arms, covering up the words that he wasn't willing to say as he felt the blood rush to his face, and she gasped, accepting them with the same giggle and enthusiasm that she had accepted him, the sunlight playing on her flowing hair of amber. She cradled them in her pale arms and fingered the silken petals with as she smiled radiantly at him, beaming in genuine happiness.

"Thank you," she supplied gratefully, her peridot orbs shining. "You really didn't have to --"

"But I wanted to!" Pence exclaimed suddenly. His entire face flushed further in embarrassment but he continued. "I really wanted to . . ." _To make you smile_, he thought as he took in the amazed expression playing on her features. _I wanted you to smile because of something I did. _

She seemed to understand, lowering her luminous green gaze in an uncharacteristic bout of shyness as she continued to toy with the papery petals delicately. "Oh, Pence." A faint, rosy hue warmed her vanilla cheeks as she bowed her head. "That's the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard . . ." She trailed off, eyes widening a fraction as a flicker of light shimmered across her orbs at a sudden realization, a sudden burst of clarity, before blinking uncertainly.

Pence blushed an even brighter shade of red if that was even possible. "Well, it's the truth," he mumbled dejectedly, burying his hands in the recesses of his pants. "Listen Aerith, I just wanted to tell you --"

"Roses mean 'I love you'."

She ignored him, whether she meant to or not. She probably didn't. She had an affinity for flowers, which is why they were the perfect gift for her. He glanced up, expecting to see that oh so familiar smile he'd grown accustomed to, butterflies alighting in his vision as he intertwined her fingers with his, a sunny grin threatening to split his face in half because he was just so damn happy as he locked gazes with her.

Then everything came crashing down.

For the longest time, Pence had always thought that he was not anything special, eternally hanging in the background like some silvery cloud overshadowed by the sparkle of three bumblebee stars, the shining trio that was _HaynerRoxasOlette._ He'd often spend his time worrying that he would be inadequate, that he'd let everyone down when they needed him most, that he would make a fatal mistake and spend the rest of his life wishing everything was different. Sometimes, he'd worry that one day they'd turn to him and see him for the utterly hopeless, useless whelp he really was, and that he would be left alone (friend-less) in the aftermath. After all, he wasn't unique, he wasn't some knight in shining armor or a beautiful prince with perfect hair and perfect teeth and perfect everything to match. He was just Pence; anything and anyone but extraordinary _even though he __stayed up all night plagued with thoughts of not-real boys and swathing darkness_.

That is, until she came along.

But there was something in her expression, in her eyes that gave it away. He froze on the spot, words utterly and entirely failing him as he stammered out in a gibberish rush uselessly, a bit like word-vomit. He took a step back away from her, feeling his heart crumble, break into tiny, worthless little heartshards that were stabbing at his lungs and making it difficult to breathe as his thoughts came to a singular, melancholy standstill, and he knew, he knew then and there even before she withdrew her hand from his and parted her soft lips:

_She loved the roses, but she didn't love him._


	2. mistletoe

**A/N:** Oh my gosh.

Now this is serious fluff if I ever did see . . . fluff.

Riku is really OOC btw. Yes, I know. I'm sorry! I mean you can totally tell that I was in a rush while writing this. It's certainly not my best. For whatever reason this one-shot is lacking. XDD;;

Anyways, I figured, "what the heck?" and since it's almost Christmas and New Years is around the corner, that I ought to write something holiday-themed to commemorate the well, holidays. lol. Plus, an Aeriku was requested by both _m o o g l e d a i m e_ and _Chibi Taryn Demon_. I hope you guys like it despite the total cliché!

so far, these couplings are on my list of 'to do's' in the near future (aka requests thus far): Seifer x Aerith, platonic!Moogle x Aerith, Marluxia x Aerith, Demyx x Aerith, Sora x Aerith, Axel x Aerith, Tifa x Aerith, Leon x Aerith, and Xemnas x Aerith. Wow. That's a lot already! If you guys have anymore, feel free to let me know in a pm or review.

To everyone: Have a safe and happy holiday!

**Disclaimer:** I own zip, zero, and nada. Except for Aerith's mint-green scarf, teehee.

* * *

**Heartprism**

_» (Mistletoe : Kiss me)_

_

* * *

_**S**now fluttered onto the earth like soft feathers, creating a silvery blanket on the ground. A cloak of it fell upon the once naked trees' sable boughs as all the world was set aglitter from the lace laden fall. The once brilliant sapphire hue of the sky had paled into a dull and roiling grayish color, only to be reflected by the silver frosted white scenery; lovely tangos of chilly breezes and wispy flakes grew bold and relentless, hinting winter's random temper. It was breath-taking, dazzling even in all its pure white and beauty, but the teenaged boy couldn't help but despise the arctic temperature that came with it. All in all, he had come to the unprecedented conclusion that no matter how many layers one wrapped themselves in, nothing made a difference once one was exposed to the drastically declining temperatures of the outdoors.

Riku despised the cold, and decided then and there that he abhorred the final season like no other.

Mouth set in a firm line of blatant annoyance, the silver-haired boy shivered as another icy gust of wind blew past and sent his platinum-hued strands whipping wildly about everywhere. He precariously balanced the stack of presents he was carrying in his arms. The varying shaped boxes in question, in their myriad of colorful wrappings and bows, listed dangerously to one side then the other with each step he took, as if taunting him.

Sighing in complete exasperation, Riku reminded himself _why_ he was doing this as he snuck another glance at the older girl walking beside him out of the corner of his eye. His gaze lingered on her lithe form longer than was strictly necessary; her hazel locks were tied back in a comfortable braid, with only a few wispy strands hanging loose and curving smoothly around her attractive face. Her eyes, the most unique shade of green he had ever seen in all of his life, were a bright emerald with rings of lime green that blended harmoniously and ended up encircling her dilated pupils. They shone reliably and clear, and he noted a cheerful gleam that almost always seemed to be present in their radiance. Her outfit consisted of a simple brown jacket, a long, flowing skirt in a pale pink, and a mint-green scarf strung around her neck loosely.

Why was he carrying half a dozen presents and walking down an empty street in the middle of a freaking snow storm?

Oh, right.

He was doing it to help out a pretty girl. A very pretty girl, indeed. Not to mention the fact that if he did not hurry up, then he would be late for the Christmas party -- his whole reason for being there in the first place.

Riku had been reluctant to come to Radiant Garden at first, especially when Sora had randomly made dramatic motions with his hands and said "you" and "party" in the same sentence while they were all still back in their island paradise. Kairi had clapped a hand over mouth and giggled like mad as his face had drained of all color completely, absolutely horrified at the foreign notion. Yet much to his chagrin he had been dragged off to board the Gummi Ship forcefully and against his will anyway. But after having been ditched by his two best friends back at the Shoppe and having met the flower girl, he'd learned more about the western style tradition and confessed to being fascinated with the idea. Although he didn't particularly fancy the thought of a fat and jolly man breaking into kid's houses at night and giving them "presents" so to speak, otherwise it seemed like any other holiday –- a lame excuse for people to get together, throw a party, and get totally wasted.

"I really can't thank you enough for volunteering to help me like this," the brunette-haired girl admitted sincerely, a smile of genuine gratitude playing at her delicate pink mouth. "But thank you, really. It means a lot to me. So much more than you know."

Riku merely nodded in acknowledgment of her declaration of appreciation, eyes riveted straight ahead as he quickened his steps slightly in the hopes of reaching his destination sooner. "Whatever. Just don't get used to it," he added, "after all I barely know you."

"Oh. I see." The perplexed expression on her face brightened into a smile with a pause in her sentence, and then she continued. "So I was wondering . . . the party you are going to, did your friends say where it was taking place?"

"I'm not really sure," he admitted in all honesty, shrugging nonchalantly. He watched her close her gem-like eyes and dart her pink tongue out to catch a snowflake. She perplexed him yet fascinated him at the exact same time with her contradicting ways. "All they said was that once I got there I'd know. That and to avoid some crazy ninja girl who would probably throw herself at me the moment I walked in the door."

His aqua eyes lit up with a shimmer of humor, an amused smirk playing at his pale lips as he stole another sidelong glance at the girl encased in earth tones and pink whom nearly stumbled on her own two feet before catching her precious balance at the very last second.

"Did you say 'ninja girl'?" Aerith questioned softly, her eyes widening considerably as she turned to stare back at him seriously.

Riku nodded slowly. "Yeah. Why?"

She registered his words, thoroughly letting them sink into her system as she wrinkled her neat cinnamon brow thoughtfully before bursting into a fit of giggles. Her cheeks flushed a beautiful rose-colored shade as she clapped one delicately gloved hand over her rosy mouth, the gesture in itself serving as further testament of her girlishness. That tinkling laugh that reminded him so much of sea shell wind chimes back home would silently, just barely, haunt him, and lurk within the deepest cavities of his mind for a long while.

"What's so funny?" he snapped impatiently. Riku scowled darkly, silver eyebrows knitting together as he saw her shake her head at him then, strands of russet tinted hair flying about and a sunny-filled smile lighting up the entirety of her face.

"I had a sneaking suspicion, I mean . . . I should have known," she stated gently, a faint blush coloring her cheeks at the sudden realization. Aerith smiled brightly, beaming in all of her jubilant happiness. "What I mean is that all this time we've been walking together, we're actually heading for the same destination. We're going to the same Christmas party, Riku."

Riku took his time to mull over her words slowly; after a brief moment of undisturbed calm, he barely blinked before he settled for a quiet yet efficient, "Oh." He paused, and then -- "What?" he demanded in an agitated tone of voice, suddenly noticing the way she was staring at him.

"Nothing!" She replied with another airy giggle, but the way her jade painted eyes glittered and flitted to the pale skyline overhead suggested otherwise. "It's just . . . I guess the holidays really _do_ have a way of bringing people together, you know?"

She smiled brightly again before beginning to walk once more, Riku falling into step beside her.

They arrived at the door a few minutes later, Aerith shifting her precious cargo to one arm so that she could ring the doorbell. Sounds of laughter and idle chatter could be heard, and there was the muffled exclamation of someone inside shouting and cursing heatedly for another person to answer the door after the third ring. Shuffling resumed and a distinctly male voice muttered something darkly in reply before responding in affirmative.

Moments later a stony-faced Leon appeared on the short stoop, a bright red Santa cap with faux fur trimming along the bottom sitting atop his disheveled brunet hair. "Nice of you two to finally join us," he muttered tonelessly, moving to the side and allowing them to come in. Riku duly noted the particularly frosty glare sent his way. Was that jealousy he saw shining in his eyes? "Now hurry up and get inside before you catch pneumonia."

The wind howled again, bringing with it a flurry of ice crystals and a whirlwind of numerous small, white flakes, which prompted them both into action; without having to be told twice, Riku and Aerith made their way into the warm shelter, pausing just inside of the doorway to set the presents on a table that was set up for just that reason. It was then that they both happened to notice that the laughter and chattering that had been going on before they'd entered had ceased quite suddenly, a sudden lull falling over the entire household.

Riku turned to direct a glare at the other guests only find that there was some snickering going on. He crossed his arms across his chest as an indignant look eclipsed his handsome visage. "Okay, what's going on?" His voice was still indifferent, but accusation laced his tone.

Yuffie, who was standing between Cid and Merlin, was desperately trying to hide the fact that she laughing behind a dainty hand pressed over her mouth. Tears sprung up in her sparkling brown irises and a cheeky grin graced her lips as she motioned silently, pointing above their heads. Riku looked up hesitantly, noticing a strange object that looked like some kind of a velvety, plastic plant with a sprig of pearly white berries and green leaves. To his surprise, when Aerith glanced up at it, noticing the glistening berries and lovely emerald foliage for the first time, her eyes widened considerably.

"Oh . . ." she said simply, dropping her gaze back to the roomful of people now watching avidly.

He arched a silvery brow in question as he observed her discomfort. "That's mistletoe, isn't it?" he mused out loud. He quirked his head at Aerith ever so slightly, just enough so that she wouldn't catch it and he smiled, barely. "There's a tradition where two people who stand underneath it are meant to kiss, am I right?"

An unforeseen tension surrounded the two then, accompanying the lack of speech, settling around them like the hushed cascade of sparkling snow just beyond frost swathed windows. Intense ultramarines clashed with viridian stones, and time seemed to freeze for a long, long moment. They poised there, balancing on the brink of something delicate and ethereal, her dark lashes brushing her tinted delicate cheekbones and her soft, full lips parted slightly, temptingly. Riku leaned in closer to her, his smirk widening as he watched her expression. Just as their lips came into contact he quickly moved his head to the side and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek instead. As he straightened back up, he heard several boos, and a few rude comments.

"You call that a kiss?" Cid remarked with a drawl as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Gawrsh," Goofy exclaimed, sounding aghast. "That was more like a lil birdie peck. Tradition's a kiss on the lips isn't it?" He tapped his own thoughtfully.

Cloud mumbled darkly from where he was leaning against the wall in the corner. He looked about ready to kill someone. "Don't encourage them."

After much complaining, Riku leaned back in, his right arm slipping around the flower girl's petite waist and drawing her body closer just as their lips met; he pressed his lips against her petal-like ones as her hands rose to tangle in his soft, pale hair. It started out short and sweet, then turned into something more confident and sensual. He pulled away, a satisfied look on his face as he duly noted her flushed cheeks and appearance.

"They'll never stop teasing about that," he drawled matter-of-fact.

"Probably not," she agreed with a slight giggle. As if on cue, a distinctly high-pitched feminine voice sounding suspiciously like the ninja's reached their ears as it called from another room:

"You know, you two are still standing under the mistletoe."

Both looked up simultaneously noticing at once that, yes, they were still under the innocent piece of foliage with round berries and olive-green leaves.

She tucked her hands cutely behind her back. "You know what?"

He turned to look back at her, a smirk tugging at his lips. Somehow, he just knew where this was going. Not that he had any objections. "What?"

"Even if we weren't standing under the mistletoe," she lowered her voice to a soft whisper as she leaned her head to his ear, "I wouldn't object if you were to kiss me."

The teen's ultramarine irises gleamed as he tilted his head ever so slightly. "Is that so?" Amusement once again underlined his tone. His grin broadened into an outright smirk as his lips descended on hers. "I'll try to remember that for future reference."

"See? I told you it was a good idea! Ooh, they're just so _cute_!" Kairi exclaimed in a squeal of girly happiness, squeezing Sora's hands a little harder than the hyperactive brunet deemed necessary.

"Don't look so triumphant yet," Sora's voice trailed off there as he noticed a certain aloof blonde glancing in a very irate manner over at them again for the seemingly billionth time that night.

"Kairi?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we'd better run."


	3. coreopsis

**A/N :** A Demyx x Aerith as requested by _Crimson Kaoru_ and _Princess of the Knight_. To be honest I wasn't really excited about writing the couple at first, but once I got the inspiration for it and decided to go with the flow LE GASP! I actually fell in love with the idea of Demith/Daerith(?)! O.o

I'm also semi-happy happy with the way this turned out. & that's saying a lot since I usually am (almost) never happy with the way my fics turn out.

Well, except for the ending. –shudders-

I was totally listening to "My Name is Love" by Amy Diamond while writing this, which is the cutest song EVER. I highly recommend it.

**Disclaimer:** -sighs- That would be wishful thinking on my part.

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**Heartprism**

_» (Coreopsis : Always cheerful)_

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**"D**o you like me?" The words had left him unintentionally, his shoulders tensing up a second later. He froze up, solid, angular, and unmoving, as though he was carving himself from wood or stone. A statue of a teenaged boy with a shock of blonde hair styled in a mullet and bright aqua depths that could not be held responsible for his (its) actions. He sat perfectly still for a moment, watching her, every detail vivid: she was on her knees, her long brown braid swinging as she leaned in to plant bulbs and annuals in the flower beds she made, and he was immediately struck by the way the light traveled across her skin, her hair, as she moved in and out of shadow, by the refined nature of everything she did.

To put it simply, he was completely enamored by her.

"I'm sorry?" Her lips were like two quivering blushing petals, and when she spoke her voice was like tinkling silver bells and hot chocolate. It broke him out of his trance instantaneously as he straightened once again and fidgeted ungainly on the spot. Lush caramel lashes fluttered dexterously against rosy-hued cheeks as she lifted her head and met his eyes in a collision course of emeralds and sapphires head-on; the young woman looked clearly taken aback. Her china-doll face echoed his blatant confusion as she tilted her head to one side in that trade mark way of hers, and he gulped quite visibly.

"Do you like me?" he repeated softly. "I mean, really. Do you like me, or do you let me spend time with you and tolerate my company because you have to?" Demyx grinned albeit a bit half-heartedly as some shimmer of light flickered across those unique oceanic spheres of his as if reminiscing over yesterdays that had become mere faded photographs suspended in time. A bad memory, perhaps. She noticed the falter in his voice, the way he licked his lips uncertainly, and the glimmer of sadness just beyond the surface of his seemingly permanently etched cheerful façade, but gave no indication of it.

She simply smiled up at him; it was a radiant smile. "I like you," Aerith said, honestly.

Demyx hesitated for a moment, then forced himself to say it. "Would you miss me?"

She tucked a wayward lock of chestnut hair behind the flush of a delicately sculpted ear as she gave him a bemused look. "Am I missing something here? I mean, what is all this abo--" Demyx pressed a finger against her lips to stop the words, shushing her. The blonde shook his head vigorously before fixing her with a puppy-dog pout.

"You can't answer a question with another question!" Demyx wagged a finger at her disapprovingly, the playful humor reflecting in his eyes and causing the brunette to let out a light-hearted giggle in response. "I mean, would you miss me if I went away?"

"Of course I would," she said patiently.

Demyx ducked his head in order to avoid her eyes. "I'll miss you too," he murmured quietly.

She blinked in a rather dazed fashion, genuinely confused. "What?"

He exhaled faintly, aqua-blue irises flickering off to the side and focusing on something invisible that she could not see. "I'm going somewhere, far, far away," he sounded guilty, "I'm sorry."

"Oh," she said simply. Aerith fingered the silken petals of a blossom, handling the flower with utmost care as it was held delicately by the stem with the drooping leaf and coiled bud that would one day unfurl and bloom beautifully for all to see in falling beams of sunlight. It was a pale lavender in color, and she inhaled the floral scent gingerly, concluding that it smelled lovely. Her head was down, eyes thoughtful, the hollows of her pretty face left in shadow; her wispy bangs flounced in her face like a brown halo as she shook her head, troubled, and Demyx resisted the urge to reach over and brush it away.

She smiled a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry too. It seems like everyone's leaving."

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

"Hey, cheer up. Please don't be sad. After all we still have today, right? Let's make the best of it," he said cheerfully, but when her gaze glimmered up to meet his in a brief connection he trailed off into a dumb stupor, not knowing what else to say.

What could he do to make today a day she would never forget?

Better yet, what could he possibly do to leave such an amazing impression on a somebody with a heart as beautiful as hers, and at the same time, assure himself that he'd never ever be forgotten?

His face lifted slightly to peek at her through the feathery strands of blonde hair that had swept across his eyes. A sharp twinge of pain smarted like a sting deep in his chest in the empty cavity where his heart should be as he unhappily noted the drop of melancholy gleaming in her brilliant forest green irises. For a moment, he seemed to have joined her in her sadness, his expression clouding up and then, an instant later, clearing.

In a sudden burst of clarity, he snapped his fingers and let out an overly exuberant, "Aha!"

The flower girl looked up at him uncertainly.

Demyx's sitar appeared in a sudden vortex of darkness. His lips quirked into the beginnings of a prideful grin as he took in the amazed expression on her face. All the while keeping an eye on her, the musician wasted no time in beginning to play.

The song was a joyful one with the slightest tinge of sadness underlacing the beautiful melody. It soothed him, the music, in a way that nothing else did. The notes were right there, and then the next and the next. The harmonious stream of sounds drifted on the wind working like a modern-day lullaby as he concentrated solely on the composition, pouring everything he had into it. Suddenly he was caught up in a daze, lost in time, space, and sound; he was only focused on the music he was bringing to life with the fluid movements of his hands on the chords. He entered another plane where his hands seemed to move automatically, liquid notes suddenly forming and dancing in mid-air all around them.

It began to rain.

The once pure azure sky began to darken. Translucent raindrops began to fall fast, racing for gold and acting as prisms on the wind reflecting reverse silhouette and the clouds broke apart to show off the bright jewel-toned streaks that sprayed across the sky: red, dark blue, gold. Golden-hued eyelashes closed gently as electric blue eyes closed briefly. Seemingly ordinary sunlight in a myriad of pink and orange swirls warmed his face in a wash of ruby-red, and when he opened his eyes again all the world was alit with this glorious rainbow-bright glow. The rain continued to fall, reflecting brilliant afternoon light and color that began to shift, alive, on every surface.

"It's like being in the middle of a disco," she said in awe, half matter-of-fact, half enchanted, long shafts of the rainbow-spectrum moving on his arms, her own smooth porcelain skin. Her dark amber tresses tinted with sherry, tied back in a long braid, brushed low against her back. And suddenly she had discarded her thick brown gloves and tools and risen to her feet, and then she was moving with fluid steps that marked the earth as she executed a perfect pirouette on nimble feet. Her shoulders were lean and delicate, and as she began to gain more confidence in her own skin, and she moved faster, dancing with a careful grace, like cherry blossoms in the midst of their descent and bubbling down to decorate the budding green grasses below.

Demyx grinned happily, sapphire irises dancing with a mischievous inner light as he watched her. "It gets better," he promised.

The sky became a blur, everything meshing together as if nothing mattered, nothing at all except the way they laughed, the way they she twirled round and round like a dancer and he watched her unwind like a cherry ribbon against the wind as he continued to strum the strings on his sitar with ebony-gloved fingertips effortlessly like he was merely breathing. When he reached the end and stopped, his blue eyes fluttered closed again, letting the notes gradually fade away into the air.

Everything slowed, until the whole world was caught in this single hovering moment. He stood very still, waiting to see what would happen next.

For a few seconds, nothing at all.

Then she turned, slowly, and smoothed down her blush-pink dress.

A simple gesture, yet it set the world back in motion.

Demyx looked at her then, her flushed skin, the happiness she could no longer contain shining through her smile. "So . . ." he started anxiously, "What did ya think?"

Her wide green orbs stared up at him, sparkling with moisture. "Oh Demyx," she murmured softly, "The song, the rain, everything . . . it was absolutely beautiful."

His face brightened considerably. "I'm glad. That really means a lot, especially coming from you."

Before he knew it, she was standing on tip-toe, pressing her petal-pink lips against his. It was innocent, genuine and sweet, and over far too quickly. When she pulled away, smiling sweetly all the while, he was speechless.

Aerith took his hand in hers then, pressing a delicate yellow bloom into it much to his surprise. His round blue eyes examined the slightly curved petals and its warm brown center incredulously, mindful enough to handle to delicate plant with care; as the long green stem was caressed by long, slender fingers, he twirled it about idly, meeting her sparkling peridot gaze curiously.

"It's a Coreopsis," she told him. "To remember me by."

Demyx found himself smiling in pure glee, both charmed and flattered at the exact same time. "O-oh uh, wow. Thanks." He scratched the back of his head, trying to fight back the awkward blush that threatened to turn his entire face a dark shade of crimson.

Her happy expression fell slightly. "You don't like it?"

"No! It's not that at all I mean it's pretty and I really, _really_ like it." Reaching out and brushing his fingers against her wrist lightly, he caught both of her dainty hands with his. It was electric, just like the dim crackle of anticipation you could feel in the currents of the air, and her pale apple cheeks stained a pretty shade of pink as he leaned down, their faces close. He said, seriously, "The thing is I don't really need it."

"Why is that?" she inquired softly, moving her head close so their foreheads touched.

He leaned down and kissed her then, gently on the lips. She let him, encouraged it even, with a tiny giggle in the back of her throat.

Demyx's grin didn't fade as he pulled back. If anything, it grew wider. "Because I could never forget _you_."

From that day on, Aerith Gainsborough had more than one reason to love the rain.


	4. asphodel

**A/N :** It's been awhile since I last updated, ya? Sorry to keep you guys waiting so long! Darn plot bunnies for my other WIPs just would not leave me alone. They're persistent little buggers that seem to multiple by the dozen every time I so much as listen to music, read touching stories, or watch sweet/cute vids on youtube, which is like, a lot.

Oh my goodness! I cannot believe it myself -- I actually did it! I finally wrote another Squaerith/Leonrith! I feel so accomplished and ridiculously giddy right now, you have no idea. Aren't you proud of me? I know you are. Come on just admit! It was so close to transforming into a Clorith, too.

Fluff, angst, fluff. It'll rot your teeth out and make your gums cry. -cough-

I hope you like it, _Summoner Luna_.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. This was merely written for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

**Heartprism**

_» (Asphodel : Regret)_

* * *

**"O**h, Squall."

It's the way she says it, breathing out the first word with a breezy sigh as he feels the weight of her head settle against his back, the smooth curve of her cheek pressing closely against the flat planes of his spine. She shifts against the mattress. Dark tendrils of twisted cinnamon flutter down along his side in a ripple of silk whilst brushing innocently against his exposed flesh. No matter how many times her melodious voice reverberates through the air and falls on his eardrums, whether it be in the light of day or the glow of starlight, they catch him off guard every time like nothing else.

"That's not my name," he intones morosely. Maybe in another time, in another place before the stars had blinked out like imploding diamonds in the evening sky; way back when such a title had belonged to a man that had stood as a great pillar of strength for his people, but not anymore. That man had died a long time ago when he had failed to protect his home and everything else he held near and dear.

Squall Leonhart was _dead_.

Yet, the flower girl still insists on calling him by that cursed name.

In the gloom, his face is eclipsed with pure apathy, russet-colored fringe falling forward and shielding his eyes as he shakes his head, exasperated. He keeps his gaze trained on the floor, noting the trail of blood stains that has soaked into the wooden boards for some time now, leading from the doorway.

Not a single drop of that blood had been his.

"Won't you just leave me be?" Leon demands more than asks, and she shakes her head firmly.

"No one ever _truly_ wishes to be left alone," she murmurs kindly, her slight curves firm against his back. He feels more than sees Aerith's lips of carnation pink arch upwards into a radiant smile against her fair skin. They're so damn soft, ghosting across his quivering skin like silken petals of the most delicate flower. In all honesty, he doesn't know anyone else so willing to speak uncomfortable truths and be so sweet and pure about it at the exact same time.

In his mind's eye, Leon sees it replay over and over and over again like a broken record. The sickly glow of round yellow orbs in the shadows, the way he had wielded his gunblade as it had hung heavily before him, charging forward to render the mob of dark forms asunder -- after that everything had just happened so fast, too fast for his mind to truly grasp.

A shout to his left overshadowed with fear had called out to Leon in the midst of the chaos, and he'd turned just in time to spot a stray Heartless crawling along the alley wall in a dark streak of fury. In a flurry of roseate, Aerith had appeared before him casting Blizzaga. Something akin to horror had stirred in his chest as he desperately tried to hold himself back, the tip of his blade trailing the ground, but not even his remarkable reflexes and brute strength had been enough for the scarred lion to overcome the momentum of the fall.

Leon had struck her down like the delicate flower she was.

Scarlet blossomed forth from her rose-bud mouth in thin ribbons as he looked on in mute horror, her wide, terrified eyes unseeing, long auburn locks resembling something like rumpled silk as it obscured her face from his view, and her figure slim, feminine, _broken_ as she crumpled to the ground. She moved once, briefly, but not again.

The image of her blood on his weapon had made Leon's head spiral with things unpleasant, unwelcome, and wholly unspeakable.

He remembers falling to his knees, stomach lurching to his throat, heart jerking in his chest like a drum without a rhythm, gunblade clattering uselessly to the ground as the Heartless had closed in all around them . . .

It scares Leon, to imagine himself completely unhinged.

"Aren't you tired in the least?" he asks her. "You should go to bed. Staying up all night won't help you recover any faster."

"It's been an entire week," she teases back good-naturedly. Her melodic voice rings merrily by his ear and she laughs quietly. "I think it's safe to say that I'll live."

Leon scowls, brows knitting together, lips pursing into a taut, thin line of self-loathing. "I could have killed you." His voice is a deep, husky timbre as he stutters over the last word, and the woman behind him gives pause, listening; it feels like a failure, and he squeezes his eyes closed tightly.

"It was an accident," Aerith mouths the words against his cheek. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

For that was Leon's greatest fear, that he would lose everything he cared for once again.

He knows she means to reassure him, just as she does for him when he is awkward and fumbling as though meeting her for the very first time, and the rest of their pseudo family on a regular basis everyday but when long, slim fingers curl gently, touching his arm slightly, something goes off in his head and he_ snaps_.

When Leon turns on her he grabs her, he grips her by the shoulders roughly, noting the faint alarm that paints her radiant features as his fingernails bite into her skin and slams her onto her back, into the mattress hard. He wants to scream that everything bad that's ever happened to them is his fault, that the Garden was destroyed because of his inadequacy, because he's not strong enough.

"Don't you _get_ it?" he says through gritted teeth. His eyes are diamond-hard and bright when they bore down into hers. "We've been lucky before but I was careless, and because of that you almost _died_. This . . . this kind of tragedy has never happened before."

The fine trembling in his limbs increases with each second that passes, and his hold on her tightens. He lifts his head then, to gaze searchingly into her eyes, the confusion and desperation slowly easing from his normally stony features; his expression softens and a flicker of light shimmers inside of his stormcloud orbs, before fading back to their former dark, shadowed hue. Leon's eyes continue to stare straight ahead, down at her, past her, through her. A fire quickly beginning to bank there as he seems to lose all touch with reality and is consumed by sepia toned memories. Memories of rushing winds brushing up against holes in corroding worlds and stars going out like twinkling lights.

His head falls to rest against her breast. "You could have died," he mutters quietly, "How can you forgive me so easily?"

Her breath hitches slightly and a new tension vibrates in the air.

When her stare falls on him, it's widened, but not in the way he expects. Aerith stares at him with round beryl eyes for a little while, plainly stunned by his words, and on the inside he is almost as surprised. Since when did he have the gall to talk to one of his team mates like this? But it is such a stupid situation, and he knows now after all these years of watching over her, protecting her, being in her mere sunny presence, that she means so much more to him than anyone could have ever anticipated.

The flower girl cares for him, sincerely, truly, genuinely, and in all honesty Leon could never hope for anything more.

Leon shouldn't, as he is painfully aware, because her heart, no matter how immense it is, is already taken. But he _does_.

"You were afraid for me," she says softly, and the gunblade wielder can barely hear his own voice above the thunder of his heartbeat. Her face blushes a pale pink for a moment, but then she smiles. A womanly curve to her full lips, an expression filled with some secret power that nearly brings him to his knees, makes him turn his head slight to marvel at it. She is so beautifully calm, so perfectly composed that it is not right. Yet when she reaches up to touch his face, fingertips lightly caressing his scar, instead of flinching and rising to leave like he imagines himself doing, he cannot help but lean into her touch and find himself utterly speechless before that fully matured look of emotion. His eyelashes flutter close as one hand rises unbidden to cover her much smaller one. She is so frail, so fragile, crushable like cherry blossoms in the palm of his hand.

Leon has already hurt her once.

"Yes." His heart gives a nearly imperceptible jump, and he mumbles quietly underneath his breath. "Of course I was." _I always am._

Her green eyes sparkle brightly, auburn tresses fanned out against the pillow, her chest rising and falling with each breath she takes –- their eyes catch and hold for a long, long time in silence, the quick, harsh bursts of his breath the only sound. His face is completely unreadable even as pallid moonlight spills forth through an open window, his dark mane falling forward, nearly, though not quite, brushing her skin, and his eyes, the color of rainclouds then, smoldering.

"Is this okay?" he asks softly, quietly, his face impassive, but slightly trembling voice giving him away. The words stick in his throat slightly. "You want . . ." he trails off, trying to find the words.

Leon is a thousand tiers of pent-up emotions that can't seem break the chains that bind; it's never been easy for him to openly convey how he feels and put it into the right words, but she seems to understand, oh she understands so much more about him than he could ever hope to know in one glance, one brief look into those eyes of hers. Her mouth lifts up to flash a dimple for the briefest second and despite everything, he feels the ghost of himself flare brightly in his chest.

She murmurs something, and he shudders as she pulls him up to her and presses her lips against his softly.

It is difficult, and probably always will be, Leon realizes.

Somehow, he knows Squall will find the words.


	5. fuschia

**A/N :** Ohmygosh. I cannot believe myself. I really wrote this. Sleep-deprived, yes, but it was still me.

I have _Sir Edward_ to thank for this one, really. Weird? You be the judge of that. I was just a bit apprehensive, not having written any Cid/Aerith before.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own KH.

* * *

**Heartprism**

_» ( Fuchsia: Amiability )_

* * *

**_A_** gruff man with eyes of a startling vivid crystalline hue walked through the doorway. He didn't feel the need to knock, automatically assuming that the occupant of the room was decent at this hour — heck, she probably wasn't even present. Knowing the flower-loving girl, she was either in her garden, cooking up a storm in the kitchen, or selling lilac tulips and yellow daisies and pink carnations off in the Borough somewhere.

That's why his cobalt eyes discharged surprise and curiosity to see Aerith lying in bed looking rather ill. She had a stuffy red nose along with those tired looking eyes, and yet, he couldn't help but think that she still looked as attractive as ever. Though she looked exhausted, her jade eyes shone with brilliance and her mahogany curls were still tied back into that impeccable girly plait, flaunting her lily fragrant skin, which was still being kissed by the light pouring in through the opened window. Through that lucid portal to the outdoors, the entire town was visible, along with his pride and joy, a newly transformed Gummi Ship, which looked particularly beautiful when shone in the shimmering sunlight.

All the same, he couldn't keep the exasperated tone out of his voice, the same tone he'd adopted over the years when dealing with a certain hyperactive ninja brat during pubescence. "Why the hell didn't ya tell anybody you were sick?"

Aerith, sick? It seemed like such an inconceivable, utterly impossible notion, especially when spoken aloud. She seemed to sense this too, in the way she sat up with a slight wince, and craned her swanlike neck to look at him more closely through lidded eyes.

"Cid," she said in greeting, but with a soft, gentle voice heavily layered with evident anxiety. She pushed back the green bed covers — which complimented her shining peridot hues well — away from her face, revealing the pink, cotton nightgown that she loved wearing to bed. No, it wasn't something particularly fancy or exquisite, but it was enough for her. Besides, Aerith had been scolded by a flustered Leon for wearing it outside of intimate quarters on more than one occasion. The pilot could easily see why in that particular moment, what with the way it bunched up around her slim legs, hugging her soft feminine curves. In fact, she seemed completely unaware that while he was gentleman enough not to mention that her nightgown was riding up, showed off far more lean, silky flesh than any warm blooded man could not be stimulated by.

Bothered, he meant _bothered. _

Aerith tilted her head slightly from across the bedroom, oblivious, and said, "But I'm all right. Really."

"You sure yer feelin' all right?" She shook her head firmly, blinking all the while to reclaim her wandering vision.

"We all have our own share of burdens to bear," Aerith insisted, her voice near sweet enough for Cid to believe her. She was all sunshine, rainbows, eloquent chattiness and so many other things that he couldn't place. The chestnut-haired and emerald eyed young woman was most likely the most mature person Cid knew yet; she was always in a cheerful mood, and not once had he ever seen her sad. Yet in that moment, while she still remained sitting, rubbing her hands together, and maintaining her line of vision on the floral eyelet, she looked little more than a small child in the process. Her soft frown returned to a brilliant smile and her eyes started to glimmer again. She then returned her eyes back to Cid.

He frowned, eyeing Aerith almost accusingly. "That ain't the answer I was looking fer and ya know it."

She gave another reassuring smile as Cid walked across the wooden boards in the direction of she was sitting, a scowl firmly plastered on his face, and replied, "Even Sora is doing more than he should, and he's only a child."

A faint hint of annoyance flashed across his blue eyes. "We ain't talkin' about Sora, now are we? 'Sides, he's the Keyblade Bearer. I reckon' it sorta comes with the territory."

She looked perplexed for a second. "Don't you have to work on the Gummi Ship?"

"Already took care of it."

"What about the remainder of the Restoration Committee?"

Cid gave a humorless snort. "They can handle takin' care of the town by themselves for a day or two. If they can't, well, then I reckon the whole town's gonna go to hell," he said.

"I . . ." She trailed off, "But I can't just sit around and do absolutely nothing."

The blond-haired pilot pressed his mouth into a tightly pursed line, blood draining from his lips. Cid turned on her then, a deep snarl across his rugged face, an expression so fierce that she was immediately taken aback, "Would ya fuckin' just quit it already? Look at ya! Yer sick as a goddamn _dog_, Aerith!"

After bursting out those stinging words, all lapsed into a very uncommon and awkward silence. Moments felt as though they were lasting an eternity. Azure met emerald eyes, which had widened in a mystified manner, sentiment undoubtedly flooding in their heads. Her marginally cherry lips quivered like poppies dancing to lulling winds, and her already blushing facial features burned an even darker shade of red — it was getting very pink, almost matching her pajamas.

Swallowing her alarm, she moved to get up, to touch his arm in silent sympathy. Instantly, he shot out one hand, pushing her back down gently. "Just don't, Aerith. All right?"

She looked so fragile in that moment. When wide forest green orbs continued to stare up at him, bright with moisture, he immediately regretted his words. "Cid," she murmured, voice still as soft as it had been earlier, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to be a burden."

Understanding immediately donned on him just as quickly as he misunderstood her. How she treated whatever wounds her comrades may have had inflicted upon them during the course of the day, and worked her Curaga magic on patching them up. How she sold her flowers and offered strangers kind smiles on the cobblestone streets she so adored. How couldn't help but see countless porcelain hearts in need of mending wherever she went. How she was mother to them all and used to aiding those in need, not the other way around. It was horribly complex, yet completely simple.

No one had the adequacy of being perfect — and she was no exception.

He sighed deeply, but was not surprised; everyone had their flaws. Everyone needed reassurance. "Look." Cid ran his hands through his hair, looking both apologetic and awkward. "I ain't no housewife, but I don't mind fixin' up somethin' fer ya to eat either. Just let me take care of ya this one time around, all right? It's the least I could do for all you've done for the rest of us."

She parted those pink lips of hers, about to politely disagree with him, about to say something in protest, when she suddenly lost the words and broke out into a frenzied coughing fit instead. He tried to calm her down as he gently ran a hand up and down her slender back, whispering to her comfortingly, saying that she sounded terrible and needed to stop being so hardheaded. And when Aerith's coughs finally subsided after her eyes had begun to water with tears, she murmured her thanks and apologized all in the same breath.

"See? You're hardly in any condition to move about." Cid brushed her soaked locks out of startlingly alabaster features, trailing his thumb along her round porcelain cheek, cautious, aware of the rough calluses and the gaunt, thick texture of his skin there; her skin was so pale, he thought, that she looked like a ghost. Sitting next to her on her bed, he happened to look at Aerith's frail hands.

Cid had never been the religious sort per se, but he could easily imagine the peaceful closing of the flower girl's eyes, that slight upward curve of a smile, in a silent prayer amidst translucent rainbows.

It was in that moment, that he felt displeasing rush of nausea abruptly hit him.

"You . . you've got prayin' hands," he muttered softly, and the thought made his head hurt. Suddenly, his voice felt contrived and twisted, spiraling tight in his throat. Clawed hands wrapped around his stuttering heart, squeezing down like a vice. He had grabbed up her fragile ones with his by this time, stroking her knuckles almost protectively, eyes going distant, and remembering something she didn't.

She mumured his name tentatively, but he didn't seem to hear her.

The older man continued to gaze into her eyes, with a much gentler sort of intensity than anyone who knew the proud, loudmouth pilot would have believed possible, and she stared back, stunned into bewilderment by his uncharacteristically tender gestures.

"Aeeeriiiiiiith! When's supper going to be ready? I'm starving up in here!"

Cid abruptly pulled his hands away and gave her an awkward sort of little pat on the head just as a scantily clad ninja-girl burst into the room. Her large, deep brown irises seemed to gravitate back and forth between the two of them; curious, thoughtful.

"Why the heck are you in here, old man?"

"Shut up, would ya?" Cid ground out between gritted teeth, before turning back to stare at Aerith. He gazed at her a moment before his aggravated expression faded into something softer, as though something inside him had yielded. "Green tea and soup sound go —?" He was cut off, but with a _hug_.

"I would like that," she admitted. A radiant smile lit up her facial features, and she beamed at him kindly. The faintest tint of a rosy blush bloomed in her cheeks having nothing at all to do with her illness, and Cid had to remind himself not to stare.

Idly, he wondered how he'd never really noticed her before until now.

"Good." Cid straightened, his glower lacking the usual intimidating intensity, and announced, "'Cause the canned shit is all we got." He turned away, holding himself steady, and ignoring the flabbergasted expression taking residence on Yuffie's face as he brushed past her.

**- x -**

It worked well enough for another week. Aerith finally got her much needed rest, only waking occasionally when Cid came to her room carrying a tray laden with crackers and mint tea or Leon snuck in to stare at her oddly before returning to his own business. Every once in awhile, she snuck into the kitchen to try and do the dishes, but was immediately ushered back to bed. Radiant Garden did not combust in her absence, but instead flourished, and spring arrived on the scene to expel the chill of winter at long last. Everywhere there was healthy green grass and blooming flowers; the air was pleasantly warm and relaxing as it whispered through the trees, soothing winds causing the flowers in the fields to dance.

The following morning was glaringly ordinary, with the exception of Cid who awoke to the lull of early morning embracing him, only to muffle a refrained curse word out loud before burying his face back into his pillow irritably.

_Someone_ had opened the window to let the cool air draft in.

Listening to the curtains rustle again in the silence, he turned to his side only to stare in utter bewilderment at the vase of dew-kissed pink fuchsia and delicate baby's breath on the windowsill, bobbing their pretty heads up and down in the gentle breeze that swirled in.

It was a message written clear enough in the petals: _Thank you._

The muscles in Cid's jaw loosened up to crack a soft grin.


	6. jonquil

**A/N:** Dedicated to _Sylver Eyes_. She wanted me to write Axel/Aerith, so I did. There's also one-sided Roxas/Aerith, hinted Cloud/Aerith, a smidge of Leon/Aerith and even a teensy weensy bit of Tifa/Aerith towards the end if you squint just right. AkuRoku is also present; because I found in my writing this it virtually impossible to write Axel without some mention of Roxas.

I know it's been forever since I last updated this, but hopefully the wait was worth it? Be a dear and let me know, darlings. (:

**Disclaimer:** Um . . . do I look like Tetsuya Nomura to you?

* * *

**Heartprism**

_» (Jonquil : Desire)_

_

* * *

_

_**T**_he party is supposed to be an intimate affair; twenty to thirty people gathered together, yet no less than the entire town of Radiant Garden shows up for the momentous occasion. The place is teeming full of party-goers of every shape and size, so no one pays any heed to the male with tiny teardrop tattoos under his neon green eyes that walks through the cobblestone square. The collection of flaming infrared-colored hair he has on his head recoils with every step as he casts his gaze to and fro — between the dancing and the crystal on the punch table, between the flashes of color and the displays of genial affection, he finds her.

Pale, ornate and refined, her slender form is clad in a lacy dress the hue of polished pink quartz, with an identical ribbon in her braided, chestnut hair. Her porcelain cheeks are stained with pomegranate rose, gemmed, preciously polished emerald orbs glimmering like light and jewels. She is leaning against the wall, a dainty hand over mouth, trills of laughter escaping despite her best efforts to contain them.

_This_ is the chick Roxas has the hots for.

Some sweet-faced flower girl who sells bouquets of blooms on the cobblestone streets of the boringly perfect small town that is Radiant Garden. She does, of course, belong in a place as beautiful as this.

With a glowering, smug look playing upon his features, Axel saunters up to pastel-clad female, paying no heed when he only earns a gentle smile in return.

"Hello. I don't believe you're from around here," she politely prompts, her voice a startling heavenly melody that slices through the heavily orchestrated room. A bubbling uproar of gossip and laughter pierces into her soft words. Words doused in innocence. Well. She's surprisingly perceptive, he'll give her that. The pyro takes yet another step towards the seraphic being — ember and competitive determination dancing in his gaze.

"You caught me," he states dryly. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Depends. Who's asking?" She tilts her head to one side, curious and thoughtful. Shock passes over his eyes for a second or so at her insistent inquiry, then impassive confidence quickly replaces it.

"Axel," he says, not missing a beat. He taps the side of his head with a single finger for emphasis. "A-X-E-L. Got it memorized?"

"Well, Axel — my name's Aerith."

Axel raises an eyebrow, slanting her a needled smile. "I know," he replies rather bluntly, and is granted immediate satisfaction when she blinks, before continuing on to tempt information from her. ". . . what's your relationship to Roxas?"

"Pardon?" she asks.

Silence lapses between them, and somehow Axels knows instantly that the white blossom — "_Jonquil_,"he recalls Roxas telling him quite seriously — had been so gingerly touching was obtained from Aerith. The memory flashing through his eyes strikes him for some reason, the golden-haired boy's fingers tracing ivory petals with ebony-clad hands. He wonders why his stomach knots in unease, wonders about the sudden gasp of relief and frustration that springs to his throat; "You. Roxas. How did_ that_ happen?"

Aerith tucks a strand of hair behind the creamy shell of her ear, and actually chuckles. Her jade irises brighten as they look at Axel, and quickly, her perfect, rosy lips dance into another amiable smile, only intensifying its bliss. "He started coming in to buy flowers. We started talking. We became friends." Her face seems to take on a thoughtful look as she murmurs those words.

"He was . . . lonely. There is something to be said, Axel, for someone who accepts you gratefully, wonderfully, half in awe, and half in respect of you. He reminds me of someone else I know," she muses so suddenly he is taken aback by the revelation, and her light apple green eyes stray from his. "Roxas," her voices goes soft and low, as if about to shed light on something more, before she turns back to the subject at hand.

"He's one of my dearest friends."

The fiery-haired boy is only able to stare at Aerith with a disbelieving look. _Friends?_ It sounds like Roxas thinks of it as more than pure friendship, for sure; what with the way his brilliant azure eyes positively light up and he talks about the flower girl breathlessly and with longing like she's an effing angel. That is, when he isn't being a generally cold, stoic bastard or devouring his precious sea-salt ice cream regardless if it's summer, autumn, winter, you name it. Axel can't help but think that _slightly_ strange. Just slightly.

"Oh, that's too bad," he comments airily, semi-regaining his arrogant control. Wearing a mask of mock-hurt and a plastered pout on his face, Axel crosses his arms and tilts his head; the green of his eyes burn brightly as he watches her cheeks fever with a pinkish glow. His smooth voice is coaxing, knowing, waiting to see if she'll take the bait.

And she does. "I'm sorry, what is?"

He doesn't think about the act at all, not when he knows his craft so well; the redhead's gleaming eyes flicker with pity as he sighs dramatically — long and drawn-out. "Too bad for Roxas that there's someone else _already_ in the picture."

"There isn't," Aerith's reply is soft and automatic, though her tone is accompanied with a slight strain filled with hope. She averts her gaze from his to the floor then around the room as if searching for something, no, _someone_, and waiting for the mysterious individual to make their appearance known. The unspoken words are something of a secret_,_ but what she really means is, _He's not here._

Before Axel can comprehend his actions, he finds both of his gloved hands descending roughly on either side of her long, slender arms.

"Jeez, so your lover boy left you all alone to fend for yourself? Now that's just plain sad." His voice is nearly convincing, but his features are not.

"No, because the ones dearest to me are always close by where it matters most — in my heart," Aerith's voice is serenading and sugary-sweet to his ears, and a part of the pyro surges with amusement at the innocent and naiveté quality. Her face lights up a little — a mischievous thought is running through her mind when she spots the sardonic twist of his lips. "You're a close friend of Roxas', yes? Surely you must understand what I mean."

He is immediately taken aback by this. Initially, the flame-haired man did not expect much from this flower girl better compared with a doll, actually — girl doll. With the flawless milky skin, warm smile and simplistic pink dress, she looks like she is better suited sitting on a high shelf and simply looking exquisite, out of sight and out of mind. Just when he thinks he's got her figured out, she surprises him.

Axel just _has_ to smirk.

Aerith is turning out to be more fun than he'd ever imagined.

Chuckling slightly, he continues to peer at her through mint-tinted orbs at half mast, his long fingers drumming slightly along her shoulder blade. Beneath the creamy skin, the dappled shade of fuchsia painting her face expands, moving down her neck as the moment stretches. Tantalizing shivers begin to trickle up and down her spine, he notices interestedly, and a cocky grin surfaces once more on his features; and then he's lowering his head to press his lips close to her ear, pushing himself right up against her and her back flat on the wall. The close physical contact is foreign to her, he knows this, and it makes this all the better.

"I can't say I do," Axel eventually says from between sneering lips, "seeing as how I have no heart."

And then her breath stops. Leaning back, he eyes Aerith closely, bright green orbs colliding with bright green orbs. Their faces are just movements away from a delicate kiss. For a moment, he wonders if those pair of plush lips will taste as honey-sweet as they undoubtedly look —

"_AERITH!" _is the harried shout that slashes through the air like a knife.

Brows arching, he looks up over his shoulder to spot a tall man pushing through the crowd. Brown hair covering his features and his complexion pale, his icy ocean eyes are a vivid flash; their depths swirling angrily, alight with tumultuous fireworks of rage as they take in the ebony-clad figure who contrasts so vibrantly against the slimmer, more feminine frame of the flower girl in front of him. His body looks taut with tension, a strange sword — a gunblade — already at his disposal. A smaller, dark-haired teenaged girl appears quickly beside him, calling behind her:

"Heartless!"

What began as a tranquil night, full of convivial splendor, soon transforms into one of swelling panic and filled with horrified shrieks at that single, exclaimed word. In an instant, the people in the cobblestone square quickly begin to disperse in every which direction, turning tables over, tearing down colorful decorations and running several of the fallen quite literally over in their mad race to flee to safety.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Axel drawls with a snort, shaking his head at the ensuing chaos around him — oh, this is just _too_ awesome for him to handle. The redhead soon finds himself guffawing at the townspeople's stupidity, the air escaping from his lungs in unsteady bursts; but the laughing suddenly subsides once his malachites catch sight of a busty female with shiny black hair and clenched fists, zooming in on him closer and closer by the second.

". . . looks like we'll have to postpone until further notice," Axel announces almost ruefully. He releases Aerith from his grip, who immediately slumps to the ground in a disgraceful heap. A curving of his mouth appears full force that is neither friendly nor mirthful in nature as he directs it at the tensed forms of her wannabe saviors.

"Catch ya later, flower girl," he says, and after giving her a sort of mocking salute, disappears in a swirl of darkness.


	7. buttercups

**A/N:** Here I am. Writing a Yuffie/Aerith/Moogle story. Something is wrong with the world. _Very_ wrong. Or is it? Because despite what you may think, my insanity is not what provoked me to write this story . . . 'twas _m o o g l e d a i m e_ once upon a time and _Rose_ who was fabulous enough to remind me_. _Thank them for this chapter. ;D_  
_

**Disclaimer:** I totally do . . . in my dreams.

* * *

**Heartprism**

_» (Buttercups : Childishness)_

_

* * *

_

_**Y**_uffie had been on her way out for the day. To do what, exactly? She wasn't quite sure, either. Her main social interaction these days seemed to extend among the members of the Restoration Committee and to some of the citizens of Radiant Garden, but it stopped there; _Work, work, work! A blossoming beauty like me can only stand for so much! _

So when Squall — excuse me, _Leon_ — had told her she could take a break from patrolling the town, she jumped for joy and blew him a raspberry before taking off to pull on her boots. Now here she was, wistfully gazing out of her bedroom window as fat, gleaming raindrops drizzled from the cloudy, ashen sky, with only a bowl of popcorn to keep her company.

She absolutely abhorred the rain.

It was dreary and sodden. In fact, everything was dark, as if the world had been covered with a veil of gray. All it succeeded in doing was banishing the golden rays of sunshine she so loved, and ruining her plans for grand adventures involving shiny objects and pranks galore.

The weather _just_ had to conspire against her.

Yuffie crossed her arms childishly and pouted outside at the rain.

_Wow . . . it's really storming out there._

Her anger minutely softened as she uncrossed her arms and started in awe at the pouring water. The rain was glistening on the grass, and dazzling on the leaves of the trees. Blinking a few times, she uncharacteristically fell into a state of tranquil lull as she listened to the soft pitter patter of the weather against the roof.

Suddenly, a crash of thunder rumbled, causing the raven-haired girl to actually yelp in fright and jump up from her bed. As a result, popcorn flew everywhere; the bits of snacks sprawling over the soft champagne carpeting that spread across the entire floor of her bedroom; however the mess went but unnoticed even as Yuffie landed back on her bed. Deep breaths were taken, to no calming effect.

"Relax, it's just a storm," Yuffie insisted to herself, though the quiver in her tone contradicted her. "You're The Great Ninja Yuffie _damn it_, and nothing scares you — not heights, not death, and definitely _not_ thunder!"

But it did, and it always had, ever since she could remember. Her delicate mind seemed to spin, chocolate eyes swimming with childhood fears and demons. It was the hundreds of bright yellow orbs peering keenly at her from the darkness where her nightmarish recollections began, houses and streets alit with flames that hissed and spat at her while she ran; it was the terror that felt burdensome on her hunched shoulders as glowing hearts disappeared into the sky. It was the thick shadows rising, crawling, alive that swiped at her flesh with their icy claws as she tripped and stumbled disgracefully in the street.

Mostly, it was the deafening clap of thunder drowning out her own noises of fear as she was backed into a corner, with no where to run, no one to help her . . .

After that cold, dark night, thunder storms in her younger days had always sent Yuffie rushing into the arms of the gentle flower girl; who was always eager to soothe her. She never seemed to mind when she did, in fact, would only shush her and affectionately stroke her dark locks as their bodies curled together amidst pink sheets and the scent of gardenias. During those moments, enveloped in a pair of warm arms, the ninja felt safe and content.

She felt _loved_.

But, eventually Squall pulled Yuffie aside to tell her point blank to grow up.

"You're too old for such habits," he said, teal blue eyes as hard as ultramarines as they met cinnamon hues in a battle — a staring contest — attempting to conclude on who was right. Soon, cinnamon eyes lost the competitive shine and started to brim with crystalline tears. A sniffle and a few whimpers were heard as the little ninja wiped away a tear from her eye, then another, and another. She couldn't control her emotions and soon started to bawl.

"B-but Aerith makes me feel safe! The shadows can't find me when I'm with her."

"You are not helpless," Squall replied firmly — and handed her a bladed star.

Sure he trained with her in the caverns underground and she became stronger, more confident, realized that she could indeed fight back. After all, possessing super awesome ninja skills plus a shuriken at your disposal was bound to kick Heartless butt. But, it still didn't stop her from seeking out the other female's alluring presence during thunderstorms. It had become a habit. Simple as that, right? _Right._

Yuffie sat up from her shivering position on her bed. Swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress, the petite ninja stood slowly. She breathed deeply, feeling like her lungs were swelling with arctic vapor.

For one, she couldn't believe that she, "The Greatest Female Ninja Ever", was still deathly afraid of thunder, and two, now there was a mess of popcorn scattered all over the stupid carpeted floor! Which would be a major pain in the freaking chocobo butt to clean up. But that could wait, for now she would quickly seek a certain flower girl out, and everything would be fine.

Another deafening bout of thunder rang in the rain drenched sky, and in perfect rhythm, another small squeal left her full pink mouth as she immediately bolted, raven hair flailing behind her. She tugged the door open before promptly slamming it shut behind her. For a few seconds, her secluded figure leaned against it. The girl was positioned with a slouch in her posture, waiting for the fear to ebb; she stayed completely still.

"It's so freaking dark," Yuffie mumbled to herself, once the thunder had receded for the time being. Then, she squinted. Only one light bulb illuminated the long hallway, dangling from the ceiling on a flimsy wire and flickering sporadically, causing the shadows to grow and dance and multiply. Everything seemed out of proportion. She could hardly tell what was moving and what wasn't.

_I told Squall we needed a new light bulb_, was the thought that rolled through her mind.

With the stealth of a true ninja, she crept towards Squall's room first to see if he'd come back from his rounds yet, peeking her raven-topped head and calling out, "Hellooooo?" A pause. "You better not be taking a break, Squally-poo," Yuffie said, louder now, still hoping that, maybe, he was lurking in one of the pools of darkness, only refusing to show himself to her because he was _Squall_ — that is, a stoic, brooding, guard-aholic. When she received no response, she hurried on to check Cid's and finally, Aerith's room; brown eyes — still piercing, even in the dark — swept around each respective bedroom area for the whereabouts of her house mates, but to no avail.

"Well, this sucks," she lamented to herself. Squall no doubt was still on the job, since Heartless attacked no matter what, rain or sunshine, summer or fall. The old man was more than likely at work in his shop like the ancient grease monkey he was, and Aerith was . . . somewhere not here.

A feeling of sick panic welled up inside her that made her pulse race and stomach churn — she couldn't _bear_ the thought of turning back now.

_Think Yuffie, think! Where could she be?_ Knowing Aerith, she was usually off in the Borough somewhere selling bouquets tied up with silky ribbons or tending to flowers in her beatific garden. However, due to the stormy weather, that narrowed it down unquestionably to somewhere indoors; and if not in her room then that meant . . .

Her train of thought ended there as realization set in.

The kitchen!

Colossal booms clashed deafeningly, ending her indecision. Yuffie ran blindly as if the demons of hell were chasing her, banging loud drums in her ears. She skidded to a stop in front of the kitchen door, both relieved and annoyed to spot a telltale slant of light. The clank of a pan soon echoed from the favorite room of most of the Restoration Committee's members. What could she possibly be cooking up? Her slender fingers elegantly wrapped around the shining, cold handle and gently pulled the door open.

The smell of deliciousness greeted her hello. As did the sight of Aerith's back as she opened and closed drawers, looking for a cooking material of sorts. She peered further, intent upon scrutinizing the scene before her, and found most of the counter of the kitchen was occupied by several dozen cupcakes, all dressed up in off white frosting and colorful sprinkles in a shimmering rainbow hue. So, she was slaving over the stove and counter making the simple yet tasty deserts, which also just happened to be the thief's all time favorite pastry. Then, there was a vase with a few small, yellow flowers on the table, typical really. And a . . .

A moogle?

"What the heck?" The girl put both hands on her slender hips, sheering her line of vision at the cream-colored creature. Said cream-colored creature blinked its beady black eyes at her, and held up a cupcake so white and fluffy her mouth practically salivated at the sight of it.

"Want a cupcake, kupo?"

She started to part her lips once more, and as if on cue the flower girl turned jovially around, a large, sweet smile gracing her lovely pallid visage when she spotted Yuffie lingering in the kitchen entryway. Her green eyes twinkled happily, and she was actually wearing a light blush-color apron; tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her delicately sculpted ear leaving a childish streak of white powder behind. She had a daub of butter cream icing also present on her cheek and in general was flour dusted, and yet, she still looked as ethereal and lovely as ever. How was that even _possible_?

One of these days, Yuffie silently vowed, she was going to find out her secret. And then, she could sell it for a bunch of munny and buy all the shiny things in the world! Nyuk nyuk nyuk!

Aerith tilted her head to one side, and surveyed her. "Hmm."

"Erm, what?" Yuffie queried, obviously distracted.

Aerith laughed, soft and light, like tinkling silver bells. "I was just about to come and surprise you," she said, teasing, but oh so very sweet. "But I guess there's no need for that anymore, is there?"

The younger girl scoffed, rolling her gaze skyward. "You think?" Then she scurried on over and made herself comfortable on the countertop, shoveling a delicious cupcake into her mouth quite happily — and then another, and another. Thank Merlin for high-metabolism!

"I think, that you have nothing to fear."

Yuffie nodded, swallowing down a bit of strawberry cupcake. "Of course," she insisted, though the shock that raced down her spine said otherwise. The miniscule hairs behind her neck stood on end as the bloodcurdling shudder suffused through the rest of her body. Her right hand in her lap twitched once, imperceptibly. Still, she maintained a childish quirking of the lips that was a cross between a beam and smirk.

"It's going to be all right, Yuffie."

As the raven-haired teen looked down into Aerith's reassuring lime green oculars, she couldn't help but feel a different sort of shudder. "I know! I mean I _am_ the greatest ninja that ever existed. But, it's just that . . . " She shook her head, for explanations that couldn't be articulated.

"There's nothing to worry about."

Her face was strained, her normally upbeat voice and demeanor reduced to an anxious whisper, as the gray splattered sky shook again, and with it her heart. "How can you be so sure?" Yuffie bit her lip as she watched through the window at her side, the illumination with streaks of white light, the roar of thunder piercing her eardrums . . .

Aerith reached out, slipping her soft hand into her own rough ones. "Because I'm here," she assured softly, and Yuffie felt color shoot into her cheeks.

She was still afraid, scared as hell actually, but so as long as Aerith was here . . . she could brave any storm.

**- x -**

Despite the booms of thunder that constantly cursed the skies, Yuffie paid them no attention whatsoever. She was now sitting with Aerith at the kitchen table, and had been for the past half hour or so. They were having fun simply gabbling, laughing and munching on cupcakes. During the entire time, their fingers remained sweetly interlaced, not letting go for as long as they could help it. They were absolutely comfortable with each other, Yuffie and Aerith — like sisters, only not. Eventually, Squall returned from his rounds, only to lean against the doorway; his brunet fringe strewn over his features, but leaving space, enabling his sky-blue orbs to speculatively pierce through with great contrast to his dark hair at the sight before him. No doubt he was taking in the two girl's close proximity.

"Honestly, Squall. Take a picture, it'll last longer," Yuffie quipped, amusement sparkling in her sepia-toned irises.

"That's _Leon_," the man replied, almost involuntarily. Roses bloomed under the gunblade wielder's cheeks. "And I just have one question is all."

"Oh?" Yuffie looked comically shocked, the mischievous grin on her face only widening further. "And what would that be?"

Squall cleared his throat uncomfortably for a moment, before taking a step forward.

"W**hy is t**h**ere a **_moogle_** in the kitchen?**"


	8. gladiolus

**A/N:** Woot! This took forever to finish! I literally have been working on this for some time. I've been plagued by writer's block, had to rewrite lots due to my failsome computer, been busy doing other things in general, but finally it's posted! The idea actually came to me whilst talking to _The Great Naxa_ via MSN . . . needless to say, I had to dedicate it to her. It starts off in a rather serious note, then the inner fluffy gal in me couldn't keep out of the writing process so it's kind of sappy and cheesy towards the end. Also forgive me for the lateness in updating, but I promise my next one won't take as long in coming~!

And thank you everyone who has ever read and reviewed, it's much appreciated. I love getting input on what I write. :D

**Disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts is not mine.

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**Heartprism**

_» (Gladiolus : Strength)_

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_**T**_he battle was endless, the phantasmagoric monsters spawned in multitude until the rocky pathway was completely eclipsed by the varying forms of pulsing, writhing inky shadows and bulbous amber eyes. Donald harrumphed in aggravation. Tightening his grasp on his Mage's Staff before raising it aloft, he issued forth a garbled bellow — white-yellow bolts of lightning thereafter projected from the celestial heavens and hurtled down onto earth; bending every which way to dematerialize a menagerie of Heartless in flashes of obsidian. Yet, they continued to proliferate in burgeoning swells by the second, the sight further enraging the white-feathered duck. The darkness worked like a liquid; no breath was deep enough to bring in a sufficient amount of air while his heart murmured and his lungs clogged with thick, black oxygen. His eyelids constantly fluttered, dropping shut then forcing open again and again through utter exhaustion. How he despised the Heartless! Slowly but surely his magic power was being used up on destroying the little buggers . . .

"Golly, don't wear yourself out!" warned Goofy, concern and slight compassion lining his voice.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Donald snapped in his barely comprehensible speech. It admittedly didn't take a lot to tick him off, and so he hastily lifted his staff once more; calling upon jagged moony yellow flashes from the high blue in his fury — he could care less about being scolded again. He stopped, trying not to look like he was nearly wheezing from fatigue: "Don't just stand there, com'on!" To which the kindly dog-faced knight merely replied with a dopey grin. Though, an anxious glint was still apparent in his vision. Equipped with his trusty shield, all plated with gleaming gold and silver, he eyed the court magician apprehensively one last time. And then he turned away to charge head-on through a tangled mass of dark shapes and sharp claws.

Not too far off, Donald saw Sora gripping his key-shaped weapon as he dexterously swung it at three Heartless tottering next to each other, a shock of chestnut brown hair drifting around his face. It took just that one hit to destroy them, and in three puffs of dark smoke they disappeared. His salty-sweet ocean irises held a light all their own all the while — not at all fluorescent but just natural light. The hyperactive brunette could easily hold his own in battle, but it didn't stop him from lingering nearby; just in case.

Leon was next to Yuffie, his gunblade turning his fingers pallid as he wielded it with a solid grip. The black-haired girl meanwhile pivoted and gyrated her way through Shadows, munny and bottled Hi-Potions tinkling in her lumpy bag that was tied unto her shorts. Her honey-frosted eyes sparkled with childish mischief as she weaved patterned cuts and slivers with her trademark shuriken. When she wandered too far near a group of flying creatures known as Air Soldiers, Leon would come with a battle cry tearing at his throat and he'd literally dive into the fray.

Tifa had strayed far from the group, her curved backside pressed against the rocky wall. Kicking off with incredible momentum, her grayscale sneakers pounded against the miniature rocks as she ran at a grotesquely rotund Large Body. She slammed her fist into its tough hide; no sound came from her as she jumped away and it faded into pitch-black wisps of smoke. Her cherry-red orbs glinted with fierceness when she straightened her posture. The usual confident smirk played at her lips.

It was safe and clear to say that the members of the Restoration Committee were a force to be reckoned with.

Well, minus one. A flash of braided chestnut hair and spring green eyes spun through his mind, and he thought that it was for the best. She had probably stayed behind, safe, like a touch stone, a haven of warmth, patiently waiting for her teammates to come home. She was too sweet and peaceful for her own good — and truly, Donald didn't think she was suited for anything other than the role of healer. That was _her_ job. That was _her_ duty.

And being present on a battleground did not fit into that description . . .

"WATCH OUT!"

The words warning of impending violence brought him back to reality. "Ah_hh_!" Gigas Shadows, which resembled their close cousins, Shadows, suddenly began to rise from the ground near Donald, eerily swinging bug-like antennas around while they twitched and reached towards him; "Confounded heartless! Get lost will ya?!"

He struggled to escape their clutches, but to no avail. The menacing swirls of violet and ebony rapidly obscured his vision, pushing him downward forcefully. But, Donald wasn't about to give in. There was no time to shiver, no time to think, no time to _breathe_ . . . no time to reach out for a loved one. Still, the white duck screamed manically, summoning all the physical strength he could muster to whack at the monsters with his staff — immolating one, but the icy grasp of another grasped around his wrist.

_Aw phooey . . ._

"Aeroga!"

The magical incantation bounced and echoed off invisible dark walls, mellifluous like chiming bells and sweet hot chocolate while Donald struggled to stay conscience; he had sustained heavy damage from the Shadow's constant gnawing and the Soldier's wild slashing with their small pointed swords. Words cluttered the air, though none of them were his own. He wondered blearily who had come to his rescue, when he saw the modestly pink-clad figure daintily drop to her knees beside him. As soft and delicate hands hovered gently over a cut on his chest — one of them had gotten too close — he discerned that he had almost truly lost his heart.

"It's all right," Aerith started quietly, her melodic voice holding a gentle reassuring air. "This won't take long. I promise."

A pure white blossom opened smoothly above him. It spilled beaming bending rays of scintillating light upon his battered and broken form. The edges of the upside-down flower positively glowed with a glittering shine. Twisted gnarled ligaments stitched themselves back together, fractured bones mended and grinded against one another as they slid back into place, and cuts oozing out metallic and salty blood closed up with newly formed skin. A newfound current of energy ebbed and flowed through him like water.

The short, white duck instantly jolted to his feet, meeting a pair of light sparkling chalcedony eyes that focused on his own intently. The sound of crackling magic, and the din of shrieks and variously pitched battle cries resonated upward almost endlessly. And he realized something — amidst the chaotic surroundings of battle, only by the saving grace of the kind, sweet and fragile-looking flower girl was he still alive. It made his head swim and caught him off guard all at once.

"A-Aerith!" Donald sputtered in indignation. He stared inquisitively at one of the people he least expected to see on the battlefield, much less rescuing him from a certain brush with death. "What are you doing here?"

The young woman pushed her hair out of her twinkling emerald eyes as a smile blessed her lips. She responded simply, "I came to help, of course. Is there any reason I shouldn't be here?"

Donald squawked slightly. "That's not what I meant! Can't you see how dangerous it is out here?!"

Aerith stifled a light giggle. She moved closer to him, reaching out to tap him playfully on the tip of his orange-yellow bill. Of course, this didn't ruffle his feathers, or cause a soft shade of red to prickle his cheeks at all. "Hmm, I do. Do_ you_?"

"'COURSE!" The royal magician made that angry squawk again, which was really long and ear-piercing. "But this isn't about me!"

"That _was_ very close though, Donald," Aerith stated after a moment, that perfect smile never leaving her lips. "Next time, be more careful, okay?"

He 'hmphed' loudly and rolled his eyes, muttering underneath his breath, "Yeah, yeah . . ."

She merely flashed him a wink — or it could have been just her eyelids fluttering. "Oh, and don't worry about me. I can take care of myself," she confirmed, startling contradicting timbres of both sweetness and frivolity in her voice. And, in an instant, she was a blur of coral-pink movement, swirling like a slender whirlpool towards the blockade of shadows. Magical energy crackled and produced itself from her slender fingertips to hurl unto the heartless, reducing them to a pile of sporadically trembling matter. Aerith metamorphosed into a powerful foe on the battlefield, amidst self-created whooshing winds and bursts of ethereal illumination. She was beautifully mirrored in Donald's lustrous lenses, a commendable magic user if there ever was one.

After his initial shock dispersed, Donald followed suit in attack, but not nearly as magnificently as Aerith had lunged herself into battle. He could shift his floppy, tawny footing all he wanted while calling upon his power to eradicate his enemies, but he wasn't nearly as breathtaking as Aerith, whose eyelids shielded her mysterious round eyes from the world as she elegantly gaited across the abode. After all, it was a focusing thing. Magic spells required concentration, skill, and above all accuracy. Pinpointing your target and willing the spell to attack that target was the key to succeeding, for if it missed than the caster was at a terrible disadvantage.

When a showering of Thundaga spells and a volley of Firaga took down the last of the gargantuan Heartless, Sora and Goofy ran up to them breathlessly, their faces shiny with sweat.

"Hey Donald, what —" The Keyblade Master's sentence froze as he really stared at him. A puzzled look immediately swept across his countenance. "Are you . . . all right?"

"Gawrsh, ya aren't gettin' sick, are ya?" Goofy inquired as well. He squinted, eyebrows pinching together curiously while he suddenly leaned forward, too close to Donald for comfort.

"'Course not, you dummy!" raged Donald. He nearly choked, then shoved his companion away angrily. Irrationally so, perhaps — but Donald couldn't let it be known that he had been staring at _Aerith_.

"But you're all **red**." Simple-minded as he seemed, Goofy was rather adept at picking up on things others usually overlooked. A frown took hold of his dog-like features as his chocolate eyes focused on a certain flower girl currently engaged in conversation with a stony-faced Leon; then a knowing light bedewed his gaze. He chortled: "Ya know, Aerith isn't on the Restoration Committee for nothin'. She's a great fighter, ayuck!"

"I know that!" Donald snapped, chagrin and annoyance ringing loud and clear in his voice. He risked another glance at the brunette, who was turned away from him. The wind passed through the rocky canyon, the sun shined brilliantly, and the day seemed perfect now that all the darkness was gone — heck, everyday in Radiant Garden seemed perfect. Donald rolled his eyes at her — well rather her profile since she was looking away from him. As if sensing his stare she turned around briefly, the sun playing with her emerald eyes once more as she offered him another soft smile.

Donald was typically the complete opposite of this, in fact he was particularly sour or he'd usually sport a cocky smirk. But, the oversized foul's mood lightened. That drastic change showed very noticeably on his face, for a genuine smile came upon his visage.

If there was one thing he hoped for, it was to be as strong as Aerith on _and_ off the battlefield.


End file.
